


Sherlock Learns

by SweetDevilMePlease



Series: Raising James [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adorable Sherlock, Fluff, John is Not Amused, John isn't having Sherlock's Shit, M/M, New Baby, Sherlock Being Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 23:15:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2829527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetDevilMePlease/pseuds/SweetDevilMePlease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock doesn’t seem to acknowledge the fact that he has a daughter. John refuses to take care of their daughter alone, so John puts things into reality for Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock Learns

John smoothed down the crying infant’s hair, feeding her the bottle. She stopped her crying and took to the bottle happily. He looked up at Sherlock, who was back to doing his experiments, even though John could clearly see he was in pain from his C-section. He tried to get the man to sit and pay attention to their daughter, but that wasn’t going to be happening.

“Sherlock, sit down. You’ve only been home for thirty minutes, and it’s been three days since your C-section. Don’t strain yourself.”

“Shut up, John. I’m busy.”

                John’s eyebrow twitched, but nonetheless, he shut his mouth, turning his attention back to the girl in his arms. He sat the bottle between his legs, seeing as Sherlock has taken over the coffee table with papers and such that would be just devastating to him to be ruined. James started to cry again, so John stood, bouncing her lightly and shushing her. He carried her to her bedroom. With no help at all, and permission from Mrs. Hudson, John had painted, bought, and moved in all the new furniture into his old bedroom. He’d even took the liberty of painting over the wall once more to make it where the walls could be drawn on without a problem. A coat of dry erase paint (that was not cheap in the slightest) should definitely solve that problem later on. He just wouldn’t tell Sherlock that. John sat in the rocking chair after closing the door.

“Baby girl trying to fight her nap?” he cooed softly as he rocked her. He hummed an old tune he’d heard that was soft and sweet. James yawned and cuddled against John’s chest. He rocked her to sleep, putting her in her crib before going downstairs to tend to Sherlock now.

                When he got downstairs, Sherlock had his hand out. John sighed and dropped his phone into the awaiting hand.

“I had asked for this five minutes ago,” Sherlock said as he texted whoever.

                John stayed quiet; not answering was his best answer. He _tsk_ ed and went to the fridge. He pushed the head out of the way, reaching behind it to pick up a canned drink. He sat back down on the couch, catching his phone when it was thrown at him haphazardly.

“You’re not going to speak?” Still no answer. “Ah. I see. I’ve angered you.”

“No, Sherlock. You’ve done more than just angered me. To be frank, you’ve pissed me off.”

“Don’t I always?”  
                John clenched and unclenched his fists. Naturally, it didn’t escape Sherlock’s attention, and he stepped back as John stood, setting his drink down on a stack of papers. John approached Sherlock with unclenched fists, and he took a step back. He winced as John’s hand made contact against his face. He was relieved and surprised that he was just slapped. He knew he deserved a good punch. His face stung  and he watched as John sat back down on the couch angrily, laying down with his back to Sherlock. Sherlock examined over John. He wasn’t asleep, more of thinking. Sherlock knew he wouldn’t be there long. He always needed John to do something for him, and John always got up and did whatever it was that he needed.

“John, I need….”

                John rolled his eyes, staying put on the couch until the list was over with.

“You’re not going to write that down?”

                John looked back at the taller man. “No, I’m not. You need it. Go yourself. Because I’m not carrying that damn car seat around because you can’t go get things you need to do whatever experiment you’re doing.”

“But John—“

“ ‘But John’ up my ass. Get it yourself.”

“I’ll care for James while you’re gone.”

                John pinched the bridge of his nose. “Bringing her downstairs and putting her in her playpen is not taking care of her.”

“John!” Sherlock was getting irritated with his partner

John was on his feet and in front of Sherlock within a matter of minutes, which startled Sherlock.  “Don’t raise your voice at me! I’ve taken your bullshit for a year. You will respect me, Sherlock! I am your partner, not your personal slave. You could be a little kinder to me and ask me if I’ll get what you need instead of giving me a list and expect to drop everything to go and get it. I’ve been patient with you, but you’ve got more responsibility now. You need to quit these experiments and start paying attention to our daughter, Sherlock. I’m not going to be the only one slaving around our, _our_ , shared flat while we raise James. Do you understand me, Sherlock?”

Sherlock’s only answer was a nod, jaw dropped a bit. He watched the muscles in his neck tense and relax. “Good,” said John. “Then I’ll be back in an hour or more.”

John picked up his coat, putting it on as he walked out the door. Sherlock watched John slam the door. Damn, did John just _intimidate_ him? He examined himself. Fingers shook lightly, heart pounding faster than normal, sense of relief that John was away. Yeah, he’d been intimidated. Just a tad. He bit his lower lip, glancing up. John was right. He hated it, but John was right. He should probably start cleaning up his silly tests, starting with the head in the fridge. He put that on a mental list to do later. But for now, he’d finish what he was working on.

An hour had past and John still wasn’t home, which made Sherlock sigh. He groaned when James started crying. He tried ignoring her, but she was breaking his concentration. He went up to her room, picking up the wailing infant. He cradled her with one arm while dialed John’s number on the phone. John answered on the third ring.

“What is it?”

“Is it time for James—“

                John gave instruction for how to warm up a bottle and the such. Sherlock kept Jams bouncing, and she seemed content with just that as he circled around the kitchen. He noted the slightly happy tone when he hung up. He did as he was instructed to warm the bottle.  When John had gotten home, Sherlock was sitting on the couch wrestling  James out of her pants. She was kicking away at him.

“Hold still, child, so I can get your—“ He finally managed to get them off. Getting off her diaper and putting on a fresh one was  easier than taking her pants off. He put them back on her, and settled her in his arms and gave her her bottled. He looked up and was genuinely surprised to see John standing at the doorway, bags in hand and a grin on his face.

“That’s taking care of her,” he murmured, setting the bags on the floor by the coffee table and dropping a kiss on James’ head while he fed her.

“Where are you going?” Sherlock asked as John walked away from them.

“To shower. You’ll be fine for a couple more minutes with her.”

* * *

 

                Sherlock had officially given up his experiments. He’d throw every body part that didn’t belong into a trashbag to be taken care of properly. Those still sat in the fridge, however. His test tubs and the such were stored neatly away. John was rather proud of the improvement he made, though he still had murder on the mind. He was paying more attention to James that he probably would have if John didn't convince him to stop with his work every once in a while.  


End file.
